Green is the Shade of Envy
by Veinne
Summary: Caroline Bingley was snobbish, proud, and so very unlike her brother; but then again, cruelty is simply a defence mechanism employed by those who are bitter and heartbroken.
1. 6

**This will be a five-chapter ficlet about Caroline Bingley as she grows up. I have an avid fascination with how she's portrayed, both in the original Jane Austen book and other fics, so I decided to show my own perspective on her.**

**Disclaimer: This book was written in the 1800s. I'm not dead yet. I think that's sufficient information to assume that _I'm not Jane Austen__._**

**Update: Changed a grammatical mistake a reviewer pointed out.**

**Update 2: Changed some plot points at the suggestion of a reviewer.**

* * *

"Caroline, the Darcys are coming over today, put on that dress I bought you last Sunday and go out to greet them," her mother said, kneeling down a little to speak to the little girl.

"But Mum, that dress is so itchy and uncomfortable!" the girl whined, stomping her foot a few times to emphasize the point. She was _sure_ she had developed some rashes because of those detestable frills.

"Now now, Caroline, it makes you look lovely," her mother said sincerely. Caroline shuffled her feet, embarrassed but smiling. She liked being pretty. It made her feel special. If she couldn't be smart like her parents said Charles was, she could at least be the prettiest girl in the room.

Bearing the itches and forcing a smile onto her face, she went out to greet the "_Darcys_".

She'd heard quite a lot about them. Apparently, they were rich and successful like Daddy and Mummy were, which must mean they were nice as well. Then again, Aunt Isabella was rich and successful too, but she was anything if pleasant.

"Do they have a _girl_?" she asked excitedly, tugging at the corner of her mother's dress. She'd recently received a new tea set for her dolls on her sixth birthday, and she was dying to get to use it. Playing by herself wasn't fun, Louisa was nice but a tad condescending, and _Charles_ definitely didn't entertain the thought of playing with her.

Charles was an idiot, really. She brought her nose up higher and sniffed in disdain. _Boys_.

"Yes, dear, her name's Georgiana," her mother said hurriedly, ushering her out of the house.

Georgiana! That was a pretty name. She was going to be the best of friends with this Georgiana - maybe she could even give her a pet name, something like _Georgie__. _And they could play dolls together and have tea parties and -

She stopped short in horror, having swung open the door in her excitement, only to be greeted with the sight of Charles and a _boy _talking to each other like fast friends. A boy! Of all things!

"Ah, there you are, Caroline!" her father exclaimed, hastily leading her over to speak with the man in the stiff grey suit. "Come and greet Mr Darcy. Darcy, this is my youngest daughter, Caroline."

"Hello there, Miss Bingley," the man said, leaning over to shake her hand. He didn't seem like the sort to smile much, but at least he didn't treat her like a toddler.

"Good morning, sir," she said, curtsying like she had been taught to. "Who is that, may I ask?" she asked, gesturing to the boy next to Charles. He seemed older, well-groomed, but Caroline was very much unwilling to relinquish her bad opinion of the male sex.

"Aha, I see you've noticed my son," Mr Darcy said, finally breaking out in a smile. "He is a great source of comfort to me, the good lad. Fourteen this year! They seem to just grow and grow and grow, yes, Mr Bingley?"

"Couldn't have said it better myself," her father said, patting her on the shoulder. "One day I will look down and my children will all be grown up, it seems! My dear, why don't you go and greet the young Mr Darcy?"

"Mother said that they had a daughter," Caroline said, rooted to the spot persistently. Over her dead body would she say hello to the Darcy boy. He might have looked well-groomed, but he sure stood forlornly. Fourteen! Caroline would have to grow so very much to catch up with someone that age.

"Oh, yes, you're speaking of Georgiana, I presume," Mr Darcy said. "She's only just two. Wonderful girl, but I'm afraid she's fallen ill recently. Down with the flu."

Two! _Way _too young. Caroline frowned. No tea parties, then.

"Flu?" her mother asked, coming out of the house and joining the conversation, having ensured that her appearance was neat and stately as always. "Oh, simply _everyone_ seems to falling ill right now, I suspect it might be the rainy season, you know. Aunt Isabella had a servant come by just yesterday to tell us that she is feeling rather sickly as well. How dreadful!"

How wonderful! Caroline thought vindictively, relishing in the idea of horrid old Aunt Isabella sick and bedridden.

"Dear, why don't you run along and talk with your brother and his new friend?" her mother asked, looking down with a kind smile.

It was inevitable, apparently. Caroline nodded obediently but morosely and headed off towards the direction of Charles and his new friend. She hoped this Darcy boy was not as dreadfully impolite and _weird_ like Charles was. It would simply disgust her to the ends of the earth.

The boy was staring at her out of his peripheral vision, as she walked over hesitantly. He looked rather intimidating.

"Hello," she said, proffering a hand. She felt as though she was an alien coming to sign a treaty. _Show that you come in peace_, her mind said. She forced a smile.

On second thought, she felt like one of the help from the farm trying to approach wild cattle.

"Morning," he said, turning over to look at her. He didn't smile, but she was immediately struck by his dark, handsome looks.

"I'm - I'm Caroline," she said, stuttering a little, completely taken aback by the fact that this was a boy that she was not utterly indifferent to or repulsed by. He hadn't done anything disgusting. Yet. "Caroline Bingley," she said, forcing her voice to be steady and sending him a smile as well.

"Right!" Charles said cheerfully, from beside the boy. "This is my younger sister, the one I told you about. She's rather nice, but she can be rather _girly_ sometimes, you know. And then there's Louisa, but you know how older girls are like."

Darcy nodded solemnly, and Caroline reeled in horror. Why did her brother feel the need to taint her name at all opportunities?

"Charles!" she said, frowning. The aforementioned redheaded boy looked over with a bright smile as thought nothing were amiss.

"Your brother speaks highly of you," Darcy said. Caroline blushed and looked down at her feet. She could not help but notice that he had a rather nice chin. To think that she had been repulsed by the thought of him not three minutes ago!

"You remind me of my sister," he said, finally cracking an encouraging smile. Caroline held her breath - that smile could cure cancers. "She's quite shy."

"My name is Fitzwilliam, by the way. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

* * *

**By the way Darcy is actually smiling and a perfectly normal (if a little aloof) boy because Wickham hasn't ruined his life yet. And many might protest that Caroline is in no way shy like Georgiana Darcy, but first impressions can be quite misleading, after all.**

**I can't help but feel rather nervous that their language is unlike that of the Regency period. Do let me know of any spelling/grammatical/logical/historical errors or plotholes. I made an effort to research their ages before I wrote this. Darcy was about 28 when the book opened, Charles was 23, Caroline and Elizabeth were both about 20, and Georgiana was 16. I'm not sure about Louisa, but she's older than Charles.**


	2. 16

**The second chapter of Green is the Shade of Envy is up! I do enjoy exploring the character of Caroline Bingley, but I'm afraid I'm not very adept at using the old language common to the Regency period.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, not dead, not Jane Austen, not the author of Pride and Prejudice.**

* * *

Caroline was sitting in the corner of the ballroom. From afar, she could see Charles chatting merrily with a stiff-looking lady, and Louisa clutching at the arm of her newlywed husband, Mr Hurst. Caroline approved of Mr Hurst, but he was no Darcy. Pity he was such a drunk, too.

Next to her sat Darcy. In the first few years in which she had been in his acquaintance, she had encouraged him to participate in events and act more lively, but later on she had learned to just let him have his way. If anything, Caroline had learned to adopt the habit of skulking in the background and insulting everyone in attendance - he seemed to do the same.

"How do you like the ball?" she asked. "Of course," she added hastily, not wanting irritation to shadow his face like so many other times in which she had professed a like for something he found distasteful. "It's rather unpleasant and all. The girls here are all rather short of attractiveness, and the men are crude and behave in the most unpleasant manner."

The shadow of irritation crossed his face anyway. Caroline despaired internally. Maybe it was just her presence.

"Yes," he said curtly. "Very much irritating, the entire affair."

Oh, how dreadfully quiet he had become after his late father's departure from this world. He had been aloof in his childhood, sure, much quieter than Charles, but that was a quality she had enjoyed in her early adolescence. Now he was downright moody.

Then again, he had much to deal with. Rumours were that he was even facing financial difficulties, but those she was quick to dispel. He was as wealthy as ever, with ten thousand pounds of income a year. There was a certain unnerving story about a clergyman, but she had decided to forget about that one.

"And how do you find the entertainment?" Caroline asked. She found the musician on the pianoforte simply delightful, but she wouldn't venture so far as to say that.

"The pianoforte music is rather soothing, do you not think?" she asked hesitantly. _Stick to the neutral, Caroline, stick to it._ "Of course, it is not on the par of your sister's lovely skills in the art - to think, only twelve, yet so talented! - but it does for some people, I suppose. Louisa has been playing since she was six - not as talented as your sister, of course."

"Of course," he parroted, with a quick, unamused quirk of the eyebrow she almost managed to miss. So, he found the talk boring? Caroline frowned and crossed her arms. She had no more tricks up her sleeve to engage him in conversation - if he were to remain silent, then so be it.

She sipped quietly at her drink, watching as the couples danced broodingly. She held no penchant nor liking for the activity, if it was not going to concern him somehow. In her younger years, she had dreamt of him sweeping her off her feet and lifting her away from the boring life she led, but they evidently were nothing but daydreams.

She watched Darcy out of her peripheries, sipping calmly at his wine and brooding. She had never seen him inebriated before. On normal occasions he drank only one or two glasses, but he seemed to take his alcohol well. She could not help but find it an attractive trait, but then again, she found every trait of the Darcy's attractive. If he had a habit of picking his nails, it would not be of much surprise to her if she found it attractive as well.

She could not help but question internally, however, what he might speak of should he ever be inebriated. She always wondered if he ever thought of her in a positive light. He certainly did not seem to view her in such. Maybe the speech coaxed from a drunken mind could shed some light on the subject.

"Caroline?" her brother asked, tapping on her shoulder. She looked up, her train of thought interrupted.

"Yes?" she asked, rather irritated. Oh, her perfect, pleasant brother had come knocking again. She always felt annoyed when he made attempts to talk to her as though he cared deeply about her - surely it was nothing but a farce? Since young Charles had always been oddly passionate about things Caroline hardly made an effort to care about. It made her rather prickly with him, but deep in her mind she wondered if it could be envy that she was feeling.

"Could I speak with you for a moment?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yes, alright," she snapped, making no attempt to hide the fact that she was not happy with the situation. He led her to a corner of the room and frowned at her contemplatively.

"Well?" she asked, tapping her foot impatiently. "Do get on with it."

"Caroline," he began, before pausing again. "I'm... concerned. You see, Darcy has been telling me that you've been making... uh, how do I phrase this? Unwanted advances."

Caroline felt deeply insulted.

"And did he tell you that they were so very _unwanted_?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Did you even try to stop him from impugning upon my honour as a lady?"

"He..." Charles said, with great difficulty. "He implied that they were not of great welcome to him, yes."

She felt a stabbing pain in somewhere in her chest, and she looked away to hide the film of tears in her eyes.

"Caroline," Charles said softly. "I just don't want you getting hurt. After all, you are my sister, and I've heard that an engagement has been arranged between him and Miss de Bourgh."

Oh, how she detested that horrid, sickly Anne de Bourgh, coughing away on her bed like Aunt Isabella! How she wanted to burn her alive! _She's a fragile little creature, but she's such a talented darling_, Aunt Catherine de Bourgh had said. Caroline hated them both.

She would've proclaimed such passionate distaste for arranged marriages as well, but that would be burning a bridge between her and Darcy that she still wished to keep. Just in case.

"I'm very worried about how his disposition towards events and affairs have affected you, Caroline," Charles said, earnest shining from his eyes. "I understand that Darcy is going through a difficult time right now, and I respect him for undergoing the pain so remarkably well, but you used to be such a happy little creature. Don't you remember playing merrily upon Father's pianoforte, and laughing along with the rest of us? Now you exclaim such shocking things about other people."

"They deserve it," she replied scathingly, reeling back a little when she saw Charles flinch.

"Caroline," he said. "Darcy is a great man, and I deeply admire him for his level-headed nature and intelligent mind, but it isn't _healthy_ for a young woman like you to just pine away like this -"

"Don't tell me what to do," she hissed. "Just because Mother and Father assigned you as a guardian after their death doesn't give you the right to hold reign over my life and behaviour. They always favoured you either way. I am of perfectly able mind to do what I want."

He slumped a little. "Mother and Father loved us all equally-"

"Besides," she cut in, just before she left. "I'm not _pining away_. Despite what you might think, Charles, I most definitely do not carry a torch for Fitzwilliam Darcy. He's just a friend I wish to see happy."

The sadness in her brother's usually bright blue eyes made her pause. He looked so earnest in his advice, so sincere.

It almost made her reconsider plunging down the path she was headed for.

Almost.

After all, she was sixteen.

People would start thinking she was an old maid.

* * *

**'Course, the clergyman's story Caroline heard of was actually the truth about George Wickham. People hear what they want to hear, I suppose.**

**Let me know of spelling/grammatical/logical errors, if there are any. I apologise for any of them in advance, I just spill my ideas out onto the computer and I don't have a beta. Do leave a review on the way out, if you could find the time.**

******& this will be my last chapter in a while, I'm quite busy this month. My next update will be around... early June. Sorry! D:**


	3. 20

**Disclaimer: Pride and Prejudice I own not.**

* * *

Caroline simply failed to see what was so _admirable_ about the Bennet sisters.

At first, she thought she only had to deal with the eldest, the hag with her heart-shaped face and soft tresses of hair and gentle, soft seductions clueless old Charles could not differentiate from true shows of affection.

Caroline _refused_ to feel guilty about that entire affair - Jane Bennet had made it rather obvious to all of them in the vicinity (except maybe Charles, the poor sodden fool) that she did not feel as strongly about her brother as Charles evidently did.

She did not blame him entirely - certainly, the entire matter would not have unfolded as it had done if he had just been a tad more observant, but those Bennet sisters' sharp tongues could spin nothing other than lies, after all. Charles was not completely at the blame. He had fallen for the trap hook, line and sinker, but Jane Bennet was a skilled fisherman in these waters.

Her conviction had all the more been strengthened when Darcy voiced a similar opinion. She had pondered over the matter with silent triumph, glad that she and him were finally on the same page, yet -

What had changed?

A wedding invitation and two letter lays before her on her desk. Caroline's working space was neat and orderly, so the three of them, crumpled and torn, stood out in great contrast with the rest of her things.

She had read the wedding invitation furiously, wondering where she had gone wrong. Indeed, she had opposed her brother going to Longbourn, but Darcy had followed him - had he failed to prevent Charles from falling within Jane Bennet's fishing net? No, the letter that had accompanied the wedding invitation spoke of Darcy's blessings to the couple.

So Darcy approved of this pairing? Her brother - a member of an illustrious family, _her _family - he was to marry this... this cow without a single penny to her name? How could Charles see _anything_ behind the shell of her accursed good looks?

And the second letter - Caroline did not even want to _think_ about the second letter.

Curse Elizabeth Bennet! She had been the most unexpected of blows. Caroline had been so preoccupied dealing with the predicament the eldest Bennet sister had presented that she had completely disregarded the second sister.

Caroline had seen the expression on Darcy's face when he had spoken of her just the other day - he held some degree of sentiment for her, she knew, but she hadn't thought - had never _imagined_ that the sentiment would run this deep. A passing fancy, she had thought of it, wondered how long it would take before Darcy would manage to chase the new desperate lady away.

Except Elizabeth Bennet was different. She _wasn't_ a desperate lady, shoving her inheritance (or lack thereof, now that Caroline mediated upon it) and handsome looks in Darcy's face. In fact, Elizabeth had not shown any semblance of affection nor made any attempt at flirtation towards the man. Maybe her lack of flirtation was a type of flirtation, in her hometown.

Elizabeth _certainly_ did not earn the scorn he would always shower upon the other ladies.

At first, Caroline had deemed her blunt honesty and crude sense of humour cause for a lack of concern. Surely Darcy could not find such a rude, untalented woman of value? And yet, later on, Caroline could not help but realise with growing horror that Darcy appeared to find Elizabeth's lack of manners _charming_.

In previous circumstances, when Caroline had been worried that Darcy's affections would transfer from - well, nobody - to a new lady, she had tried her hand at copying whatever Darcy might have found attractive in the other women. Imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, after all.

When the gossip started going around that Mary Prenneth would inherit a large sum of money from her uncle after his death, Darcy had briefly spoken of her newfound eligibility - three days later, Caroline began making suggestive comments about her own enviable dowry.

Two years before, Anna Barker had been all the men would talk about, which Caroline had not paid much attention to - that is, until Darcy had commented that she had a handsome face, at which point Caroline started paying more care to the makeup she applied and caked on whatever beauty products that were in fashion.

But Elizabeth Bennet's honest and fresh-faced charm was not a type of makeup she could just start caking on herself. To be frank, Caroline simply did _not_ know how to imitate Elizabeth Bennet. She was just so - different.

She was her age, too. Lord, Caroline was twenty. By the society's standards, she was already becoming something of an old maid. Louisa had already been comfortably married at her age - she felt like she had wasted all her entire life chasing one man, and snubbing all the others who had actually came to her _willingly_.

It was evident, though, that this one man she had been determinedly trying to catch up with had been - had always been, when she hadn't been paying attention - entranced with another woman.

_This must be what they dub 'heartbreak'_, Caroline thought, letting fresh tears fall on an already tear-ridden letter. Why? Had Caroline not been good enough for Darcy? She had spent all this time just _trying_, trying so _hard_ to be what he wanted, to be what he needed, but she felt like she had never truly understood the man she had stood by all these years.

The letter crumpled within her fist.

The last paragraph had hurt the most.

_Caroline, it has never been much of a mystery to me that you held a certain degree of (a splash of ink) affection towards me. I wish you no pain, but I have never been able to return your __(a blotch of ink) _feelings. I do hope you will be able to find your happiness, although it does not lie with me, and I wish with all my heart that you will be able to give Elizabeth and I your blessings, for she makes me happier than I have ever been. You know I care for you, Caroline. You have always been alike a sister to me.

They hurt, his words.

It felt like a dagger, long inserted within her abdomen upon the realisation that Darcy held feelings for Elizabeth, was being twisted painfully in her gut, jabbing at all the right places to make her groan, to make her clench her fists with the pure unadulterated _pain_ of it all.

_Like a sister like a sister like a sister_, her mind whispered, and Caroline thought that maybe she had always been a masochist in secret, because she picked up a piece of parchment and penned a congratulatory letter on Elizabeth's newfound sentiments towards Darcy (_her _Darcy, her mind said, but maybe not, maybe she had always been his but he had never really been hers), because that was what Darcy had said he wanted and she had never been one to refuse him anyway.

She barely got past '_Congratulations_' before breaking down, because anything else would be a lie, a gaping hole in her moral integrity, but she forged on afterwards, wiping away her tears and spinning lie after lie after lie because if Darcy wanted sugarcoated lies then _god damn it _he would get them, Caroline had nothing else left to offer either ways.

Her throat tasted bitter and her mind was flooded with _so much __grief_ and her guts felt like they had been split open and poured out from her body and she doubled over and wept again because after all, she had only been a small rowing boat trying to overcome a towering wave in the ocean that was Fitzwilliam Darcy.

* * *

**I'm actually quite a big fan of the Bennet sisters, but I'm thinking Caroline probably does not have a very high opinion of her. So, new chapter is up! Let me know of any errors you find, I don't have a beta and the slips I make are frankly embarrassing.**


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